Insanity
by the practitioner
Summary: Alucard goes head to head with a side of Miss. Hellsing no one else ever sees, and Integra makes it clear who is the servant and who is the master.


**Author's Notes: **This is my first entry on this site and also my first serious Hellsing fic. Critique is very much appreciated and I apologize if either of the characters are a bit out of character. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hellsing.

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It had been four years since she had released him, and she was now a grown woman; the mistress of her family's sacred organization, and of course, his master

It had been four years since she had released him, and she was now a grown woman; the mistress of her family's sacred organization and of course, his master. She was no longer the child that had pointed the gun in his face and screamed at him for his testing insolence. She was colder now, more introverted, more controlled. Then again, she didn't need to yell to silence him now; a single word would do.

Integra Helsing was the epitome of everything admirable in human nature. He observed her in silence, finding himself begrudgingly respecting her more and more with each passing day. She had the icy control and tact of a woman, the pride and courage of a man, and the sharp, intelligent insanity of a true Helsing.

'She hides it better than her ancestor did,' he noted, watching her twirl an unlit cigar between her fingers. Perhaps it was her icy exterior, but the woman (for she was a woman now) was extraordinarily good at burying the madness that ran in her royal veins. Alucard was fairly certain he was the only one who noticed the occasional glint in her eye.

Perhaps that was what made her blood so sweet.

He licked his lips absently, waiting, but she was silent, glasses glinting in the midnight moonlight. She looked frail, silhouetted against the large window behind her desk. He knew she hated it, the natural vulnerability her sex burdened her with, the way her peers looked upon her, _down _at her, the fools. That was why she dressed the way she did; unflattering, plain, but impeccably tailored. Proud. Just like her father.

'Just crazier,' he thought with a wicked grin. 'And more powerful. Far more than she knows, far more than her dear father ever anticipated.'

He allowed the reigning quiet for now, if only because he never got bored of watching her, learning her. He knew she noticed; he knew that she was aware of how well he understood her.

And he knew she hated him all the more for it.

She was the most fascinating human he had ever encountered, and one of the most tempting. He could feel the calm, steady beating of her heart, he could smell the blood moving through her body. He could count every artery and every vein, and the (almost) overwhelming urge to _have_ her, his master, was in and of itself intriguing. The Helsing blood had always been tempting, but in all his years of service to the family, he had never felt the desire so strong.

If anything, this lust only made him more possessive, more loyal, more obedient. He would willingly degrade himself thus for nothing less.

The sound of a match being lit broke the silence. Her noble head bent slightly as she lit the end of her cigar and it glowed red in the darkness, sending light reflecting eerily off the lenses of her glasses.

"Smoking gives humans cancer," he told her blandly, leaning against the shadowed pillar to her left. The smoke curled around her pale face as she exhaled.

"I am aware of the possible threat to my health, Alucard."

"Of course."

He was mocking her, but that was nothing new. It was his nature to bait her, and in hers to continuously remind him of his place. He was the servant. She was the master. He knew this, he accepted this, but it was too much fun to antagonize the woman. And Alucard loved to have his fun.

"Did you call me up here for my company?" he demanded finally. Although infinitely patient (seeing as he had far more time than she did), Alucard was beginning to tire of her completely ignoring his presence. Especially considering she was the one who'd called him up.

She'd been staring out the window, looking thoughtful, her mind a thousand miles away when it should have been focused exclusively on him. He scoffed quietly when he saw her blink and turn towards him, the padded shoulders of her suit looking awkward on her slender frame. Angelic blue locked with satanic red, and then she spoke.

"I did some research, Alucard, on your history and the history of my ancestor, Abraham Van Helsing." His eyes narrowed and the grin, always in place, twitched a little. She clearly noticed, and her glasses flashed as she pushed them up the bridge of her nose.

The atmosphere was suddenly different; the air was heavier, and Alucard leaned towards her a little more, gazing into her face. Ah, he could see it now, the completely mad light in those clear blue eyes. So it was going to be like that tonight.

"And what did you discover?"

"Everything."

"That tells me very little, master," he drawled, tipping his hat forward so a thick shadow fell over his face, concealing his eyes. "Seeing as 'everything' to you could be 'nothing' to me." His voice took on a taunting lilt, and the moonlight that kissed his smile exaggerated the egotistical expression.

She walked slowly around her desk towards him, one of her gloved hands trailing over the stacks of papers, the lamp, her box of cigars. It was the only illegality she allowed, her cigars. She wouldn't drink and she didn't partake in any drugs, but she took comfort in her cigars.

He thought it was funny.

She stopped and faced him, face stoic but for the strange light in her eyes. He licked his lips again, eager. She was unpredictably predictable, a rare beauty, and he thrived on the moments when she decided to break the normal, horrifically boring routine. Moments such as this.

"'Vlad the Impaler'," she murmured. He showed no outward signs of surprise, waiting. "That's what they used to call you, isn't it? Among other things, I know. You were a slimy piece of filth even when you were human. A butcher. A living vampire…" She looked up at the ceiling as if it was suddenly more fascinating than her undead servant. Alucard waited. "Yes… Vlad III, later to become Dracula."

Ah, so she'd found out his name. "And now, Alucard. No wonder my father kept you locked up, starved you, trapped you in the cell..." The light in her eyes, which had flickered like a candle (and like a moth, he was attracted to it) was now burning ever brighter, all consuming, _marvelous_.

"Your father couldn't control me."

"But I can."

'Yes. Always.' He didn't answer out loud and she stubbed her dying cigar out in the ashtray. "Yes, I can control you. I am your master..." She was talking more to herself now, looking out the window. He wondered briefly what was so god-damned interesting that she kept looking into the night and away from him. "I haven't been the only woman to control you, have I, Alucard?" It had seeped into her voice, that delightful poison.

He was wary now, though, and he lifted a skeptical brow. "Hmm?"

"Am I anything like her, Alucard?" A rare smile came onto her face, but it was dark; a Cheshire's smile. His smile. He didn't like the way it looked on her. Her voice was so unlike the master he had accustomed himself to for all these years. It was sickeningly sweet as she landed the final blow: "Like your Mina?"

For a moment time stood still.

But then – all too soon – it caught up, and the situation had changed entirely.

She couldn't have seen it coming. He had moved too fast for her mortal senses to register that he was suddenly in front of her, his grip steely and furious as he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. Within the blink of an eye his teeth were at her throat, her body pressed to his. His hat had been left behind on the floor and he was growling like the beast he was.

And she was laughing.

It occurred to him that he had never heard his impassive master laugh before. It was a clear, silvery sound, and it rang in his head, triumphant. His teeth scraped a warning against her skin, and although he couldn't feel her pulse quicken or her body quake, she did calm herself enough to speak.

"Ah, so you do have a heart to wound, vampire," she purred, tapping two fingers against his chest, where the beating organ should have been. She was completely unaffected, and he chided himself at having expected any different; his master would never give anyone that satisfaction, would never allow such a submission. Her pride was her strength. It was Alucard who had lost his composure, and fruitlessly at that. He was the one who had bared his fangs. The servant. The dog.

He pulled away from her throat, but he didn't release her completely. He wasn't entirely sure what this was; some sort of new game Integra hadn't ever shown any desire to play before, but he wasn't beaten. The cat hadn't caught the canary, not yet. He'd be damned if he let her be the victor that easily. "If you're going to bring up the past, Sir Integral Wingates Hellsing, you should call me by my real name." Alucard said it quietly, right next to her ear, but the suggestion rang with an authority she had never heard in his voice before.

The tone itself transformed the otherwise innocent statement into an order.

He had dared to command her, and he was getting the exact reaction he'd been hoping for. Her eyes widened impossibly, the fury in them magnified by the spectacles that sat askew on the bridge of her nose, and her face went very white. A hand lifted and slapped across his face with a resounding 'smack'. He allowed it, turning his head slightly to the side with the impact.

"Vile creature," she snarled, grabbing him by his collar and yanking him towards her so their noses almost touched. "You do not command me. I am a Helsing, and _you_ will obey _me_. I am stronger than my father and his father before him. I am stronger than Abraham, who caught you, tamed you, put you in a _box._" The nasty smile was back, her composure regained for now. He'd evened the playing field, but not for long. His Integra was just reaching the climax of her crazed outburst, and she certainly wasn't finished yet.

"He used tricks and traps and a simpering _woman_ to bring you – the most powerful vampire in the entire bloody world – to your _knees_," she breathed, her body beginning to tremble. He stared into her eyes, caught between anger and delight. She had found a weak spot and was shamelessly exploiting it; it was a strategic move to strengthen her confidence in his obedience. He should have expected nothing less from her.

Clever master. She was testing him, and by this time they both knew now that he would pass; his stance relaxed, his fingers releasing her hair and the lapel of her jacket. He just watched her, the grin snapping back into place. 'Yes, master, to answer your question. You are more like my Mina then you will ever know.'

She was his match in every possible way, the opponent he was always searching for. Someone who was aware of his power and willing to battle for control over it.

She even had a selective insanity that almost – but not quite – equaled his own.

He wet his lips and if she recognized the hunger in his eyes, it only added more fervor to her venomous declaration. "He sapped you of your strength in order to control you, but _I_ released you and I allowed you to regain your strength and power and I _will_ control you regardless. I don't need the wiles of a woman or his other tricks and spells." She released him as if he was something to disgusting to touch and her shoulders straightened, chin lifting. "My ancestors were afraid of your power, but don't even for a second think that I am…"

Her eyes flashed.

He had never seen her so glorious since the first day when she'd confronted him.

"I am _not_ afraid."

For a moment the only sound was her heavy breathing. They stared at each other, managing to speak volumes with only their eyes. Eventually it was Alucard who broke the silence, his voice calm and uncharacteristically muted. There was anger, no more challenge. He spoke in the voice of a true servant:

"Of course not."

He watched the fire die in her eyes, watched her seamlessly dawn that mask of calm, calculating sanity once more. She looked upon him with the usual mix of distaste and contempt, running a hand through her hair to untangle the knots he'd formed when he'd grabbed her. Integra was relaxed, she was returned to her usual state of disciplined indifference.

He had passed the test.

"It is not in your nature to fear anything or anyone."

Her lips curled only slightly upwards, this smile possessing none of the previous ones' venom, but she didn't let the expression linger long, because soon she was briskly straightening her coat and sitting back down at her desk.

He retreated back away from behind her desk, knowing that despite her nonchalant attitude she hated when people invaded her personal space. He lifted his hat from the floor and placed it back on his head, preparing to leave. The shadows curled about his boots, beginning to slowly engulf him, but before he disappeared, he turned his head to speak: "There is no reason you need to prove yourself to me, _Sir_ Integral. I am but your humble servant."

And as he phased through the floor he noticed several things. The first was that she was slumped unceremoniously into her chair, looking exhausted. The second was that despite this weariness, she had a look of supreme satisfaction on her face, one that mingled a little with amusement (he had to do a double take upon noting that). And finally, he heard her stoic voice say dryly, "Humble? I beg to differ, _Alucard_."

His laughter, wild and grating, lingered long after he'd disappeared back into the dungeons below.


End file.
